Learning How to Sail My Ship
by puravidaloco
Summary: A series of oneshots featuring our beloved Enterprise crew experiencing life, love, and friendship. NO SLASH, some Spock/Uhura. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Read, review, and please enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Hello All! This is my newest story, and it's another series of oneshots, though it will probably be much much longer than the last one. It's titled 'Learning How to Sail My Ship' and it will feature the _Enterprise _crew, though most of the oneshots will be focused on McCoy, Kirk, and Spock (And the relationship between the three of them, really I just love writing the friendship between those three). There will be references in here to other stories I have written (because all my stories are somewhat interconnected), but they can all be read as stand-alone fics.

That being said, this first chapter directly follows the last chapter of my story 'The Many Faces of James T. Kirk' (To all the kind reviewers of that story: THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH AND I LOVE YOU ALL). Enjoy my newest oneshot kick!

0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Kirk (POV), Spock, McCoy

**Genre**: Friendship, Humor

**Summary**: Kirk considers the his relationship with Spock and McCoy (NO SLASH: really guys I just don't write it)

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Jim couldn't figure out when it had happened. He couldn't figure out when exactly Spock and Bones had become as essential to him as his own hands.

He knew that, lately, the crew had begun referring to the three of them as though they were one entity. He had heard one crewman say, "Captain Kirk has three brains. He's got the one in his head, and the other two are in Dr. McCoy and Commander Spock." The comment had made him smile. Of course the crew would get that impression. On nearly every away mission he beamed down on, Spock and McCoy were with him. In a crisis on the bridge, Spock was at his right shoulder, and Bones was at his left (or screaming at him from the communicator to _'stop _shaking this goddamned ship while I'm trying to fix people').

In the last year, Jim had come to appreciate them more and more. Bones was his rock, his best friend. He could lean on Bones when he needed to, and Bones would see his weakness and not judge him. When he was with Bones, for a moment he could be _Jim_ and not 'Captain Kirk the Hero'. Bones was all heart, despite his gruff shell, the strong steady emotional support. And then, there was Spock. Spock was cool, calm, and steady in a crisis, always ready to calmly inject his advice without undermining Jim's authority. When things slowed down, Jim had discovered that the Vulcan _was _human too. He could see it when they played chess, or when Spock was bantering with McCoy, or when he looked at Uhura. He was making friends, finding love, and making a home on the _Enterprise_, and Jim was glad to be a part of it, and proud to call himself Spock's friend (even if his First Officer would never say it out loud).

However, Jim knew in the last year, Bones and Spock had become even more than that to him. They were more than friends, they were closer than that. He needed them like he needed air, food, water, his own two working hands and feet. Perhaps it was all they had been through together. Besides nearly dying together on an away mission a few weeks ago (rock aliens? _really?_), Spock had dragged his ass out of life-threatening situations at least six times, and Bones had saved his ass with hyposprays and small medical miracles even more times than that. Beyond that, the three of them had discovered a camaraderie that Jim had never expected. They could work together, and get the job done, but they could be together and relax too. Jim had found that Bones was not the only one that let him be 'just' Jim. Despite Spock's _ridiculous_ insistence on calling Jim 'Captain' all the time (even when off duty), Jim found that Spock didn't judge him when he wanted a drink or two with Bones, or gloated over beating Spock at the occasional chess game that he won, or just wanted to _talk_ and be himself and not Captain Kirk. Spock was quiet, but steady as a rock, and surprisingly helpful when Jim needed it.

He straightened from where he was leaning against the rail of the observation deck, stretching his sore muscles with groan and wincing at the slight pull in his lower back. He was still healing up from his near death, courtesy of the rock aliens, but he had been back on duty for two weeks and was merely grateful for his life and his miracle working crew.

"You're gonna end up back in sickbay if you're not careful." Drawled a slow Southern voice behind him. He turned, grinning at Bones, who was lounging on a couch. The Doctor's sharp eyes missed nothing, and he had picked up on Jim's wince when he had stretched.

"You should talk Bones. You've been running around like you didn't nearly get eviscerated less than four weeks ago. _You _will be back in sickbay before I am, mark my words."

"Captain, As the Doctor's duty requires him to spend most of his time in the medical facilities, I would not call that a valid threat. In your case, however, Dr. McCoy is not only correct, his threat against you is completely viable, considering your strong aversion to medical contact." Spock interjected, his brown eyes dancing with humor despite the lack of a smile on his pale features. He was standing on the other side of the deck from Jim, hands clasped characteristically behind his back as he addressed his Captain.

"Spock…did you just _agree _with Dr. McCoy?" Jim said, his grin widening.

Spock raised an eyebrow as Bones smiled up a Jim. "I was merely stating facts. I could not possibly agree with such an imprecise statement as the Doctor has made. He did not adequately explain your risk factors as related to your injuries."

"_Risk _factors? You green-blooded hobgoblin, Jim is a walking 'risk factor'! That is an obvious fact."

"I fail to understand how a person can be a risk factor to themselves."

"You fail to understand _a lot_ you ice-cold…"

Jim grinned, turning back to watch the stars fly by. The banter was just part of the package, and he was glad for this, glad to be here and have such friends as these.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews and hits again. They make me smile :)

0o0o00o0o0o

**Characters: **McCoy (POV), Kirk, Spock

**Genre**: Friendship/Humor

**Summary**: So why, now, did he look forward to Spock's curt logical manner, and the dry sense of humor that spawned so many lively arguments? Thoughtful McCoy in a silly scene with Jim and Spock.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

McCoy wasn't really sure when he came to rely on Spock's friendship just a much as he did Jim's.

In fact the situation really confused him. He had watched Spock shoot his best friend off the _Enterprise _on to a godforsaken ice planet, and since _that _particular murder attempt didn't work, try to choke the life out of him a few hours later. He remembered the icy hatred that had flooded his stomach then, watching that logical, pointy-eared bastard give in to his 'emotional side'.

So why, now, did he look forward to Spock's curt logical manner, and the dry sense of humor that spawned so many lively arguments?

Maybe a tentative friendship had been forged when Spock had saved McCoy and Jim on Beta V. Maybe it had happened the first time he had played guitar on the ship, and Spock had been the first crewmember to walk in and sit quietly to listen.

"Doctor?"

The cool voice brought him out of his reverie. He was lounging in Jim's quarters, nursing a glass of bourbon as he leaned lazily back in a comfortable chair. Jim and Spock were talking quietly over a game of chess. Another typical night on the _Enterprise_.

"Hey, Bones?" Jim said, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth, "You're zoning out again."

McCoy rolled his eyes, taking another pull of his bourbon. "I was not zoning out. I was just…thinking…"

"Thinking what?" Jim asked, as he moved a chess piece. Spock's eyes followed the piece carefully, and he pressed his fingertips together as he leaned towards the board.

McCoy didn't answer for a moment. He was watching Spock; he could almost see the wheels turning in the Vulcan's head as he considered the board.

Spock's eyes suddenly moved from the chess game, and darted over to McCoy. "Apparently, Captain, the Doctor wasn't thinking. He has now taken 6.7 seconds to answer your question."

"You green-blooded bastard, I was watching the damned game!"

"Surprising, Doctor, since chess seems to be a game of logic that your illogical and emotional mind would fail to grasp."

McCoy stood up, downed his bourbon in one gulp, and shoved Jim a little. "Move." he said tersely, his eyes locked with Spock's.

Jim frowned. "Bones! I was going to beat him…"

"Don't be such a child." McCoy snapped, settling for bodily shoving Jim to the floor.

He ignored Jim's whining from the floor, his eyes focused on Spock as the Vulcan calmly set the chess pieces for a new game. It was _on_.


	3. Chapter 3

0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Spock (POV), McCoy, Kirk

**Genre**: Humor/General

**Summary**: Spock stared at McCoy's angry form, and felt himself relent. _Checkmate, _again (how had the Doctor beaten him at chess?).

Spock's favorite place to be on the _Enterprise_, by far, was the bridge.

The bridge was the ship's brain, full of computers working thousands of calculations, taking millions of measurements and readings as day after day the great silver ship flew gracefully through the universe.

It was _fascinating_, all the information that could be obtained on the bridge.

Currently, activity on the bridge was at a minimum. It was a lull, something the Captain would refer to as 'boring'.

Spock thought it was anything but dull.

Dr. McCoy had just stepped on to the bridge, and Spock turned from where he was bent over his science station to observe the inevitable interaction that would occur between the Captain and the Doctor. The interactions were strange to Spock, who had never been exposed to such intimate human relationships, but he was becoming used to them, as McCoy had taken to visiting the bridge often when the Captain was on duty.

"Jim." McCoy said, a slight smile on his face as he moved forward to stand to the left of the Captain's chair.

Captain Kirk, who had not noticed McCoy step on to the bridge, noticeably jumped, then turned to face the Doctor with a look of alarm in his blue eyes. "B…Bones…"

"Relax, Jim." the Doctor said, holding up his empty hands. "No hypos."

Captain Kirk visibly relaxed, his features easing into his trademark grin as he turned back to the viewscreen, eyes searching to the emptiness of endless space in front of the ship. "It's quiet out there, Bones. Not much to see up here today."

"Oh, there is plenty to see. There are two crewmembers who have not had their quarterly physicals with me."

"Who?" the Captain said quietly, though Spock noted his change in palor. His face had flushed, and he looked suddenly annoyed. Spock tilted his head, noting an elevation in the Captain's heartbeat. He ascertained from the Captain's reaction that he was one of the two crewmen who had not obtained the physical, as he seemed to have a strange aversion to medical personnel.

Spock shifted, carefully transferring his work to PADD so he could observe unobtrusively. He really enjoyed these interactions, and he found that he was beginning to appreciate the Doctor's presence on the bridge more and more, despite McCoy's penchant for emotional actions and illogical words (Spock was still confused on how farm animal metaphors could be applied to so many interstellar situations).

"You, Jim. _You _have not had your quarterly physical. And unless you want me to strip you naked as the day you were born on this goddamned bridge and have this physical right here, right now, I suggest you take off duty ten minutes early and get your skinny ass down to sickbay." McCoy looked a little breathless after his tirade, but Spock was impressed. The strategy was effective, and Spock watched quietly as Kirk stood, his shoulders a little slumped at the prospect of medical contact.

Spock made to turn back to the science station as the Captain and Dr. McCoy made to leave the bridge, but he was alarmed when a familiar southern voice drawled, "Same goes for you Spock."

Spock tilted his head slightly as he turned. "Pardon me?" He was used to being pulled into small disputes and little verbal exchanges between the Captain and the Doctor, but this was a new occurrence.

"Yeah Spock," McCoy said, folding his arms as he stepped away from Jim to walk towards the science station, fire in his hazel eyes. "You are the other crewman who missed a physical. You are coming down to sickbay with us."

"Doctor, I am perfectly healthy, and I need no medical jargon to confirm this fact." Spock had not had a physical in nearly a year, as he had taken to hacking the medical records system and forging examination records. It prevented an often botched physical that some fool of a doctor with no knowledge of xenobiology attempted to give. This quarter, however, he had been caught, and he wondered at his own forgetfulness.

"Spock I will forgive the use of the term 'medical jargon' _this time_, and remind you that as a member of Starfleet, regulations require that you have a physical once every quarter.", McCoy growled, eyes flashing as his body tensed.

"Doctor…"

"Don't make me pull rank Spock. I _can _take you off duty, remember?"

Spock stared at McCoy's angry form, and felt himself relent. _Checkmate, _again (how had the Doctor beaten him at chess?)_._ He stood stiffly, walking to the lift to join the Captain, the Doctor following him with a smug smile on his face.

Spock loved the bridge, but he did not appreciate McCoy's presence this day.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in updates folks. I've been at a conference away from home, but now (at the airport with 6 hours of time and free wifi) I can add a chapter! Hooray!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

**Characters**: Chekov (POV), Uhura, Sulu (just a brief cameo)

**Genre**: Humor/General

**Summary**: The problem was, he did not trust the ship's barber, because the ship's barber for the men was also the ship's chief engineer, and he was not about to let that Scottish, sandwich loving fool anywhere near his head with a pair of scissors

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Checkov sighed from his station on the bridge, wearily scrubbing a hand through his hair. He had a problem.

He needed a haircut.

He had gotten a few funny looks these past few weeks, but he had not realized how bad it was until Sulu had walked up to him and said, "Dude…you have an afro. Just cut it". He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling at his hair with one hand in agitation. It had been over a year since his last cut, and his curls seemed to be growing in every direction.

The problem was, he did not trust the ship's barber, because the ship's barber for the men was also the ship's chief engineer, and he was not about to let that Scottish, sandwich loving fool anywhere near his head with a pair of scissors. He didn't want to go anywhere near the security ensign who cut the women's hair either, because honestly every time he saw her she looked at him like she was going to eat him.

He was definitely caught between a rock and a hard place.

He was sitting in the rec-room on Deck 5, enjoying a peaceful private game of Solitaire. He loved old-fashioned card games, he even had an old fashioned deck so he could lay the cards out in front of him and let his mind and his hands play the game together. The card games helped him think, and currently he was etching out pros and cons lists in his head in an attempt to narrow down which of the two scary barbers he would go to for his cut.

Mr. Scott

Pro: The men's haircuts are neat and simple

Con: He plays with powerful ship parts for fun and nearly kills himself doing it…a lot.

Pro: He's a genius who can handle the most delicate parts of the ship with excellent, steady skill.

Con: His obsessive love of sandwhiches. He would probably talk about them during the whole haircut. Really?

Ensign Gloria Hale

Pro: The women on this ship always look good. Really, it's weird, but hair must have something to do with it.

Con: She looks at him like he's food. Which is a little creepy.

Pro: She's really beautiful. Really beautiful…

Con: She views him as a delicious treat **not **a person, and really he doesn't want to be jumped during a haircut.

He shifted a card pile morosely and moved a King to the newly open space. This was just getting sad. What was next…eenie-meenie-miney-mo?

He was surprised when the doors opened behind him with a soft hiss, and even more surprised when Lieutenant Uhura sat across the table from him. He nodded to her, and she smiled back, leaning back in her chair and opening an honest to God paper and pad journal. Over the past year, he and Nyota had developed a comfortable friendship, and somehow she always knew where to find him, and what to say. She was not as close to him as Hikaru, but she was his other close friend on ship.

At times like these, he valued her casual, unobtrusive approach. She knew when to push, and when to be silent.

He sighed, his gaze dropping back to his cards, and she took up on his cue immediately, looking up from the book she was writing in.

"What's up, Checkov?" She asked, resting her chin in her hand as her dark eyes gazed at him steadily.

"I…I am een need ov a…haircut."

"Yes…Yes, you are."

He blushed and dropped his head, feeling ashamed as he brushed his too-long bangs out of his eyes. There was a moment of silence.

"I'll cut your hair, Checkov."

He looked up, so glad for the alternative that he didn't ask any questions. "You vill?"

She smiled. "Go and wash your hair. I'll be at your quarters in twenty minutes."

Checkov sighed happily.

He was sitting in his desk chair in his quarters, a sheet tied firmly around his neck.

Nyota was standing behind him, a pair of barber's scissors in one hand and a comb in the other. He didn't ask how she had procured the tools. He was too preoccupied, enjoying the feeling of the comb running gently through his hair and listening to the soft snipping sounds of the scissors.

Occasionaly, Nyota would forgo the comb, using her fingers instead to carefully measure and cut. Her touch was so gentle and light, and he was content. The last time someone had cared for him like this, he had been on earth, his Mama cutting his hair carefully as his little sister played happily with a PADD on his lap. His Mama would do the same thing Nyota did, combing through his hair with her fingers, using a caring touch. He had grown up a lot since then, but he missed that. The absence of his family in this endless space often weighed on him.

But for now, for once, he was content to let Nyota do her work, her light voice humming a low, soft song that filled the room.

"Ok" she said, ten minutes later. "All done."

He stood, and crossed to his mirror and smiled. He looked just like he had when he had left for the Academy, his mother having just cut his hair the day previous. He looked fresh, excited and he turned and smiled gratefully at Nyota as she cleaned up the chunks of hair on the floor.

"Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

Authors note: Thanks for the reviews everyone. Hope you enjoy this next installment

0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy (all three take turns at POV), and Uhura Cameo

**Genre**: Humor/Hurt/Comfort/Friendship

**Summary: **He yelped as his body impacted and he found himself skidding, and didn't even have time to cover his head. With a resounding thud, his skid stopped as his head had a brief but painfully intimate relationship with the bottom of the sink.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Jim stretched slowly. "Alarm, off." he grumbled and sighed in bliss as the high pitched whine ceased.

He opened his eyes, blearily. "Lights, fifty percent." He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light and scrubbed a hand across his face. It was 'morning' or whatever kind of morning it could be in space. Either way, his alarm had him awake an hour and a half before his shift, just as he liked. He liked to take his time in the mornings when he could, so he could be running on full blast when he made his way up for bridge duty.

He sat up and twisted his torso, wincing as he heard the pops in his back. He was pleasantly surprised that this morning, for _once_, he was not waking up still nursing the aches and pains of a recent injury. In fact, for the last few weeks the supply run the ship had been on had been relatively quiet. Bones had even pronounced him 'fit and healthy…at the moment" in the quarterly physical that Jim had tried so hard to avoid.

He swung his bare feet over the side of the bed and padded over to the replicator, where his morning cup of strong black coffee awaited him. He smiled as he took a slow slip, savoring the hot liquid. He had asked Scotty to tweak with the replicators a bit (seriously, if the guy could get an endless supply of huge delicious sandwiches, what could he not do?) and the coffee quality had remarkably improved. "Columbian, Cap'n." Scotty had said, one day, handing Kirk a cup. "Best you'll ever have." Kirk hadn't asked. He knew better than to ask with Scotty, but the man was a miracle in space. Really, God bless him for this coffee.

He set his coffee down and walked to his desk, checking his PADD for any urgent messages. Of course, there were 16 new ones from the higher ups, just since last night, but those could wait. He could see none from his crew that required his attention. With one more sip he finished his brew, and started for the shower.

He had just begun to enjoy the feel of the hot water, soothing his muscles and waking him for his day when he heard the red alert. The comm. in his bathroom chirped and suddenly he could hear Spock's voice. "_Captain Kirk_"

He launched himself out of the shower…and tripped. He felt his body flying forward, landing in a wet pile on the steamy bathroom floor. He yelped as his body impacted and he found himself skidding, and didn't even have time to cover his head. With a resounding thud, his skid stopped as his head had a brief but painfully intimate relationship with the bottom of the sink.

_Ouch_.

"_Captain Kirk_." The cool voice spoke again. He _really _wished he didn't have a communicator in his bathroom. The red alert sirens were still blaring, aggravating the beautifully blossoming ache in his head. He gripped the side of the sink and managed to pull himself up, fighting the dizziness long enough to find the button on the comm..

"Kirk, here." he mumbled.

"_Captain, you are needed immediately on the bridge. We are under fire._"

He felt a rush of adrenaline through his body again, wondering why he hadn't understood the significance of the _red alert _in the first place. "On my way." he spoke into the comm.. "Kirk, out."

He dashed out the bathroom door, and almost ran out of his room before he skidded to halt. He had suddenly realized something terrible.

He was still naked, and soaking wet. He turned and ran full tilt back into the main bedroom of his quarters, throwing open his drawers in search of a proper uniform.

Nothing. There was nothing. Of course the laundry wasn't back yet.

Fighting down nausea and wondering how this day could possibly get any worse he ran into the bathroom and grabbed the soaking wet gym shorts and undershirt he had slept in last night.

With all the dignity he could muster, he left his room and headed for the bridge.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Spock was mildly shocked.

The _Enterprise_ had been sailing through space, only a few hours from dropping supplies at a small Federation Starbase, when a Klingon warbird had appeared out of nowhere and had initiated an attack. Spock had directed that standard procedures be followed: shields were up, phasers locked and ready, the Captain was summoned, and Lieutenant Uhura was attempting to open a line of communication.

The ship was shuddering under his feet, just a little, feeling the impact of Klingon weapons, when the Captain had stepped on to the bridge.

He was dressed in what appeared to be long black cotton shorts and a black tank top. And he was soaking wet. What surprised Spock the most, was that, whatever his appearance, Captain Kirk had stepped on to the bridge with his usual manner of brusque and efficient authority.

Spock watched in mild interest as the Captain began issuing orders, first to Lieutenant Uhura to keep trying to communicate with the enemy ship, and then to provide Sulu with instructions to put the phasers on standby to fire if their hails were not answered. He turned to Spock, an eyebrow raised and Spock answered the question automatically.

'Shields are at sixty percent, but holding, Captain. The only signs of life on board the enemy ship appear to be Klingon."

Kirk nodded, and stepped to his chair, and Spock wondered at the force of his personality. There had not been so much as a raised eyebrow from his crew, no questions about his appearance, just quick and efficient action and perfect response to his orders.

It soon became apparent that the Klingons were in no mood for negotiations, and the Captain proceeded to fire. The _Enterprise_ was in danger, and he had no choice. Despite the damage to their ship, the Klingons still insisted on fighting, an illogical and suicidal action. Within minutes, the battle was over, the Klingon ship reduced to nothing but debris to float through endless space.

There was a moment of silence as the crew stared at the remains of the Klingon ship. The Captain hated taking life, but he would do what he had to for his ship and crew.

Suddenly the Captain's communicator chirped, breaking the silence. "_Jim? Are you done shaking around the ship up there? I have injured._"

The Captain sighed, and pressed a finger to the communicator. "All clear up here, Bones. Anything serious?"

"_Nothing too bad, just some minor burns, bumps, and bruises. How about on the bridge? Any injured?" _

The Captain looked around, observing his Bridge crew. "Looks good up here, Bones." He responded.

"_Yeah that means I better get my ass up there personally to check you all out. See you in a few." _

Jim suddenly met Spock's gaze and he raised an eyebrow, giving the Captain's attire a pointed look. Captain Kirk shook his head, water droplets falling from his soaked hair. "Don't ask." He mumbled, raising his hand gingerly to touch his scalp as he closed his eyes, looking weary.

Spock nodded, but moved a bit closer, feeling something was amiss with his Captain.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The threat was destroyed, and space was quiet again. Jim slumped a little in his chair, gingerly feeling at the goose egg that had popped up on the top of his head. The adrenaline rush was gone and his headache was suddenly raging, screaming its presence from inside his head. The lights on the bridge were bright_, too bright_, and with a sudden jolt of fear he realized that Bones was coming. And Bones was going to _kill _him. With hypos.

The sadistic bastard.

He thought briefly about running but a sudden wave of nausea had him double over and he was soon heaving. All over the bridge.

This was _so _not good for his authority.

He could feel Spock near him, the strong hands grasping his shoulders as he heaved painfully, his head spinning. The episode was over quickly and he was carefully pulled back so his back rested against the chair. He let his head fall back as his eyes closed, and the last thing he felt was small, soft, gentle hands touching his face as Uhura worriedly asked, "Where in the _hell _is Dr. McCoy?"

o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Dr. McCoy is right here." Bones said, as he stepped of the lift to Uhura's question. His eyes took in the scene.

Vomit on the floor. Jim in chair, unconscious. Spock holding him by the shoulders. Uhura gently pressing her hands to his face.

_Shit_.

He rushed forward. "What in the hell…"

His question was stopped short as he actually got a look at his best friend's appearance. Jim was soaked to the skin, wearing nothing but an undershirt and gym shorts.

He shook his head. The questions about Jim's appearance could wait. "What happened?" He asked tersely as he bent over his friend, shining a light into his eyes.

"He did not look well after the battle with the Klingon ship. He proceeded to vomit, then lost conciousness when Lieutenant Uhura and I came to his assistance."

McCoy's practiced hands gently carded through Jim's hair, and he found what he was looking for quickly. There was a good-sized goose egg just on the top of his head.

"Did he fall any time while he was up here or hit his head on anything?" He asked, addressing the bridge crew in general. The crew shook their heads in response. They looked worried.

He scanned his tricorder over Jim, just to confirm.

"He's got a concussion. I'll bet it's got somethin' to do with this…" Bones said, rolling his eyes and gesturing at the Captain's appearance. Really, with Jim, he had learned to expect the unexpected, but he would have some explaining to do whenever he decided to wake his ass up.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Jim woke up to the rolling, melodic sounds of Bones' voice.

"…don't know how he does this to himself sometimes. Really, how do you end up on the Bridge looking like that?"

"To the Captain's credit, he was able to command the bridge crew most efficiently, despite his unkempt appearance." Spock responded, as always cool and logical.

"And with a concussion. _Idiot"_ Bones said gruffly, but Jim could hear the smile in his voice.

Jim opened his eyes and saw Bones and Spock, standing on either side of him. He was laying on a biobed, in sickbay. He groaned. This was happening way too much.

Bones grinned down at him. "You have some explaining to do, Jimbo."

"'Bout what?" Jim yawned, reaching up a hand to gingerly touch his scalp. His headache was nearly gone, and the goose egg from earlier was now just a slight bump.

"How you ended up on the bridge. Soaking wet. Out of uniform. With a _concussion." _Bones said, a little bit of snarl in his voice.

Jim looked from Spock to Bones and back. "I tripped." he said in the very small voice.

"You tripped? Where?" Bones asked, looking flabbergasted.

"The shower."

"The shower?"

"Yes."

"And the clothes?"

"Laundry day. I didn't have anything else." Jim flushed, embarrassed.

"So let me get this straight. You hear a red alert while you're in the shower. In your haste to answer the bridge, you trip, knock your head and sustain a concussion. You still make for the bridge and when you can't find any clothes, you throw on what you wore to bed last night?" Bones said, his expression dumfounded.

"Hey!" Jim said, flaring up defensively. "It could have been worse. I almost ran to the bridge naked."

There was a moment of silence. Bones and Spock were staring at him, their expressions unreadable.

Then Bones burst out laughing.

That was a sickbay first.

Bones was doubled over, wheezing in helpless laughter as he clutched the side of Jim's bed. Jim looked helplessly over to Spock. "What?" he asked, exasperated. Spock was staring at him, one eyebrow raised the laughter dancing in his deep brown eyes.

"I believe the doctor finds the situation humorous."

This statement only made Bones laugh harder, and Jim shook his head, letting out a chuckle of his own. This would be one of his more memorable trips to sickbay for sure.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews and hits.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Uhura (POV), Spock

**Genre**: Romance

**Summary**: Their eyes met. She loved these little stories, the little slips. He made them just often enough that she was beginning to fit the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle he was together. (Just a sweet little Spock/Uhura moment.)

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Nyota took a deep, soothing breath, pulling the warm night air into her lungs as her eyes took in the quiet beach in front of her.

It was night on Risa, a small vacation planet, and she was getting her first views of the ocean there. She watched the waves gently lap the shore, ebbing and flowing gently, and her gaze followed the line of the ocean to the endless horizon. She dug her toes into the sand, feeling the pull of the ocean, calling to her, and suddenly she couldn't resist anymore.

She took off at a full sprint, pelting towards the water, feeling the sand flying up behind her feet. She felt her feet splash in the waves and laughed, kicking and playing in the cool water.

God, it had been _such_ a long time since she had felt so human. There was solid ground under feet again, an ocean lapping at her ankles. She felt peaceful, content, and giddy all at the same time. With another little giggle, she kicked her right foot in front of her, spraying more water in the air, then ran into it, throwing her arms out as the little droplets showered her.

"Nyota?"

She spun, surprised. Spock was standing a little distance away from her, his dark eyes on her. He looked odd, out of uniform, but at the same time his loose trousers and long white tunic shirt fit in with the beach setting. She smiled and walked towards him, then stopped just in front of him. With a laugh she threw her hands up in the air and twirled gracefully on one foot, allowing her body to flop down into the sand.

"Nyota…"

She looked up. Spock was leaning over her, one eyebrow raised, a question in his dark eyes.

She reached out a hand, allowing her fingertips to barely brush the top of his bare foot. She was surprised. She looked back up at him.

"You aren't wearing shoes."

"Indeed."

It was her turn to give Spock the look of silent questioning.

"I found the feel of the sand…familiar. It feels much like the sand felt on Vulcan at night." He said, a solemn undertone to his quiet voice.

Their eyes met. She loved these little stories, the little slips. He made them just often enough that she was beginning to fit the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle he was together.

He sat down next to her, carefully, gracefully. She sat up and curled her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees, her gaze following the ocean. He was just close enough, just barely touching her. She could hear his steady breathing and was surprised when she felt a hand ghosting up and down her back.

She tilted her head to gaze at him. "What are you doing?"

"You are covered in sand. I am merely trying to make you more comfortable."

She smiled. His hand movement suddenly changed, the quick brushing becoming small circles and he continued rubbing her back, even though it was strictly unnecessary.

This was just how she liked to spend shore leave.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello all! I'm so pleased to hear that you all are enjoying my stories so much. I'm having a great time writing them! Keep up the reading and reviewing!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Sulu (POV), Kirk, McCoy, Spock

**Genre**: Friendship, Humor

**Summary**:Blood was pouring in a steady flow from Kirk's nose. Great. McCoy was going to _kill _him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hikaru Sulu stretched comfortably, plugging his arms into the sky as he bobbed in the waves on his surfboard.

He was really enjoying this shoreleave. The Captain had brought them to Risa, and had somehow managed to secure the entirety of one of the nicest resorts on the vacation planet for the crew. He was grateful, as the resort seemed to have everything available for their enjoyment, including surfboards and beautiful ocean waves.

He had not been surfing in years, but he had settled into the comfort of his old hobby easily, and had managed to catch a few waves this morning.

"See anything Sulu?"

He glanced to his left, where Captain Kirk was bobbing on a surfboard nearby, looking eagerly over his shoulder. Kirk had come jogging into the surf and had clumsily paddled his way in, looking for all the world like an eager puppy when he had asked, "Teach me Sulu?" Of course, Sulu had agreed, and had found the Captain to be a surprisingly good pupil, just as he was with fencing. He was eager, and caught on quick, and on top of all that he was absolutely fearless.

"Not yet sir." Sulu replied glancing over his shoulder. He took a moment to look back at the beach. He could see Pavel and Dr. McCoy playing beach volleyball with a few security Ensigns. Scotty was with the rest of the oddballs in Engineering, enjoying some alcohol despite the early hour. Even Spock had made it out on the beach. He was currently sitting cross-legged in the sand next to Uhura, clad in a tunic and long loose pants, and reading an old paperback earth novel. Uhura was stretched out on her stomach, apparently asleep.

Sulu glanced back over his shoulder again, and saw a beautiful wave building behind him. "This one, sir." He said, grinning over at his Captain, who rolled his eyes.

"This is _shoreleave_, Sulu. My name is Jim." Sulu nodded as he stretched out on the board and began to paddle furiously. He caught the wave perfectly, and stood and rode it straight and true. Jim had caught it too, and was grinning as he balanced carefully on his long surfboard.

Sulu saw it coming the moment before it happened. The front tip of Kirk's board wavered just a little, and Kirk lost his balance. In his attempt to regain control, he overcompensated, and flipped headfirst over the front of his board, his body tumbling in the wave.

Sulu dove off the side of his board without thinking, hitting the water with the grace of a long time swimmer. He reached out and felt relief rush through him as his hand found a solidly muscled arm. He kicked forward, wrapped his other arm around Kirk's chest, and kicked for the surface.

They broke the surface, Sulu breathing heavily, panting as he hauled the spluttering captain back towards shore.

"I'b fine, Sulu." The captain was mumbling thickly.

Sulu's feet finally found solid ground, and he kept a firm hold on the wavering Captain, steadily keeping to his right side. That had been his first fall, and the first one was always a bit of shock. And there was always some blood involved he thought, ruefully, as he glanced at the captain's face.

Blood was pouring in a steady flow from Kirk's nose. Great. McCoy was going to _kill _him.

"Damnit, Jim!" , a gruff southern-accented voice shouted. Dr. McCoy had abandoned his beach volleyball game and was running down to the water. He glanced back over his shoulder, barking at Chekov. "Go get my medkit from my room!"

McCoy reached Jim's left side, and hauled the young Captain's arm over his shoulder, shaking his head as he got a good look at the nose.

"I knew this was a bad idea. Damnit, Jim, you can't even go on vacation without hurting yourself." He groused as he helped Sulu finish hauling Kirk back to the beach.

"I'b fine Bones." Kirk mumbled, shaking himself free and lifting his hands to try to stem the flow.

"Sit down before you fall down, you rash idiot!" McCoy spat, nodding his thanks to Chekov as he accepted his medkit with one hand and pushed Kirk down by the shoulder with the other.

Sulu knelt on Kirk's right side, trying not to hover, and wondering at McCoy's ability to do twelve things at once. Currently the Doctor was examining Jim's nose carefully with one hand and pulling out a compress and a hypo with other.

Kirk paled at the sight of the hypo. "It's just a nosebleed Bones." McCoy just rolled his eyes and occupied himself with examining the rest of Jim for injuries.

"What has happened?"

The cool voice behind him startled Sulu, and he jumped a little, glancing up. Spock was kneeling next to McCoy, his dark eyes focused steadily on the Captain's bloody face. Sulu thought he was never going to get used the Vulcan's ability to appear out of nowhere.

Wordlessly, McCoy handed Sulu the compress as he pulled out his tricorder, confirm whatever his careful physical examination had told him. Sulu carefully pressed the compress to Jim's nose, much to Jim's chargrin. "Jim was being stupid. Of course." McCoy muttered.

The Captain shot a pleading look at Spock who raised an eyebrow. "The Captain seems to have been learning a new skill. I see nothing 'stupid' in this pursuit."

"Nothing stupid, huh you hobgoblin? The idiot broke his nose and cracked a rib."

"Then he has indeed been fortunate this day, for it seems he often acquires more serious injuries than this in trivial pursuits of knowledge."

Sulu couldn't help himself, Spock's cool reply sent him into helpless fits of laughter as Dr. McCoy scowled and jammed a hypo into Jim's neck.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello all. To my faithful readers and reviewers: THANK YOU SO MUCH! Your support truly makes my life.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Spock Prime (POV), Kirk

**Genre**: Friendship

**Summary**: "See! See!," The young man exploded, launching himself out of the chair and into a frenetic pacing. "Here you sit, half Vulcan, just as stoic as _he _is and almost exactly the same, but _you_ have no problem just calling me Jim!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"He still refuses to just call me _Jim_**!" **

The Ambassador suppressed a smile, and found that the attempt was more…difficult than it should have been. It had been years since he had been with James T. Kirk, or even Dr. McCoy, and he was out of practice in dealing with humans.

However, he reminded himself firmly, that this Jim was not his Jim. The differences were illustrated starkly. The _very _young Captain was staring at him with clear, icy-blue eyes, so different from the warm hazel he remembered. He was lounging in a chair across the table, his fist clenched around the handle of a teacup. He was in the much the same pose the Ambassador was used to, hunched forward bent over the table and giving that steady stare that spoke of a problem he was trying to solve. However, where his Jim had been much more self-assured and relaxed, even when a problem was presented, this boy was tense, as if he was waiting for an attack or fight, and was so insecure it was almost painful.

"Ambassador Spock?"

The questioning young voice pulled him out of his observations. "Yes, Jim?"

"See! See!," The young man exploded, launching himself out of the chair and into a frenetic pacing. "Here you sit, half Vulcan, just as stoic as _he _is and almost exactly the same, but _you_ have no problem just calling me Jim!" At this he whirled, spreading his arms wildly and sent his abandoned teacup smashing to the floor.

The Ambassador almost laughed, but again suppressed the urge. The humanness of this Jim's frustration, the apparent need to _move_ was so very familiar, that he had not even had the slightest twinge of frustration at the destruction of the teacup. He moved calmly and carefully, picking up the pieces from the floor of his small quarters. He had invited the young Captain for a brief visit while the _Enterprise _was making a supply run to Vulcan II. "Jim, I urge you not to let your frustrations get the better of you. I would like to keep my quarters."

Jim froze, his face flushing and remorse flaring in the stormy eyes. "Sorry. I know you didn't invite me here to listen to my problems."

"On the contrary, Jim. I invited you here simply to enjoy the presence of your company."

The young captain looked stunned, the smiled and dropped back into his chair, his icy blue eyes warming for just a moment. And in another moment, it was gone. The frustration was back, and Ambassador Spock suppressed yet another smile at yet another similarity. This Jim was just as emotionally volatile as his Jim, his mood flying all over the spectrum in a matter of seconds.

"I don't think we are ever going to be friends." the boy intoned, his blue eyes downcast. "I mean, he's not trying to choke the life out of me anymore, but really. He is so stoic, he's only smiled at me _once_ and only because we almost died…"

"Jim…" the Ambassador interrupted. He couldn't help himself, the revelation had surprised him. "My counterpart…he smiled at you?"

"Yes, but we had almost died, and I think he was just doing it to please me, not because he really meant it…"

"James."

The intonation of his full name paused the young Captain in his babbling rant. He looked up, and the storm swirling in the blue eyes again reminded the Ambassador of exactly who he was dealing with.

"Vulcans very rarely smile. It is an emotional expression, and one we avoid if we can. We reserve our smiles only for the most…appropriate of moments, and only for those who may be called close to us."

"You mean…"

"It cost my young counterpart a great deal of effort to smile, but…I believe that is the best expression of friendship you will receive."

Jim was silent for a moment, staring at him with slight disbelief.

"I can tell you, that I very rarely smiled at your counterpart. It was emotional expression I felt no need for." Spock intoned quietly, and suddenly he _wished_ he had smiled more, wished he could have given his Captain that before he had passed.

Jim's face broke into its own wide grin then, and Spock knew he understood. The confidence that seemed to spring into the young man's demeanor was astounding.

"You just settled for raising an eyebrow huh?" Jim said, a touch of laughter in his voice.

The Ambassador smiled, letting the emotional expression show, and Jim tilted his head back and laughed. And at that moment, Ambassador Spock was grateful for even the most unexpected of second chances.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: I'm back! Sorry for the delay in updates. I have been away from my computer for a few days now. Here's a brand new chapter all ready to go!

**Characters:** Spock (POV), references to Sarek and Amanda Grayson

**Genre:** General

**Summary:**His father's insistence on keeping such potted earth plants made very little sense.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Spock knelt in front of the small potted plant, carefully tilting a jug of precious water into the dirt, giving life to the roots.

His father's insistence on keeping such potted earth plants made very little sense. Vulcans were not decorative creatures, and the rest of his father's new residence on Vulcan II was a stark illustration of this fact. It was very sparsely decorated, with only the most necessary of furnishings and utensils.

However, the back deck of the apartment quarters was home to several species of potted earth plants.

Spock moved from one plant to the next around the porch, still wondering at his father's illogical actions. He knelt in front of a small cactus, tilting just a little water into the base of the pot.

The memory was on him before he could stop it, taking him back to years ago, when his mother was still alive, and Vulcan was still a beautiful star in Earth's night sky…

"_Spock." _

_His mother's voice had him alert in an instant, his focus drawn away from his books as she beckoned him from the door to their back porch. Their eyes met and she smiled, that warm smile that awakened a strange glow deep in the pit of his stomach. He suppressed his own smile, no sign of his inward struggle appearing on his young face. _

"_Spock, come water the plants with me." His mother said, her smile warm, and inviting. _

_He left his seat and the small kitchen table, stepping carefully to his mother. She laid a hand on his back, very gently guiding him out on the deck. She handed him a cup of water and he took it carefully. "Tell me the names of the plants Spock, and what is special about them." _

_The first plant he reached was small, prickly cactus. "A member of the family Cactaceae." he spoke softly. "This plant bears a prickly exterior, but is able to survive in arid climates for long periods of time." _

_He heard his mother's light footsteps and she joined him, and knelt beside him, her warm brown eyes, his eyes, focused on the cactus. "I love this plant. It seems hard and prickly on the outside, but in the desert, it is a source of life for many." She reached out, touching a thorn carefully with her finger, a gentle smile curving at the corners of her mouth. _

_Spock watched her, fighting down his emotions again. His mother understood him so well…._

Spock opened his eyes, gasping for breath. In front of him, the small green cactus plant stood innocently in its pot, and for a moment he could _see_ her kneeling, her gentle hands carefully touching the thorns as she smiled that warm, inviting smile. The memory was so clear…

Suddenly he understood why his father kept a garden.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey everyone! Hope you all still enjoying the story so far! Thanks to all the reviewers!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: McCoy (part POV), Spock (part POV), Jim, Winona Kirk,

**Genre**: Family, Hurt/Comfort

**Summary**: But her icy hazel eyes, large in the set of her thin, fine boned face, were unmistakable. He had seen her picture so many times, in old records of the _U.S.S. Kelvin_. She was Winona Kirk.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Leanord McCoy smirked as he took a sip of his drink. These Vulcan colonists sure knew how to throw a party.

It had been about a year and a half, McCoy estimated, since the _Narada_, and the Vulcan colony was thriving. The Ambassador had picked a planet that was truly 'suitable' and the colonists had really begun building a home. The first of the Vulcan children had been born, and Vulcan had just had its first truly successful harvest. Though supplies would continue to be delivered to the colony for quite a few years, independence and sustainability were beginning to be realized.

In recognition of the harvest, the Vulcan government was hosting a banquet, and the government hall was currently packed. The buzz of quiet voices in intent conversation, mixed with the lilting notes of classical piano music, swirled around McCoy. The _Enterprise _had made its supply run to the colony just in time, and Starfleet command had ordered them to stick around Vulcan for three days so the flagship's crew could attend. Damned publicity crap.

The party was quiet, serious, and McCoy knew that the humans were doing their best to respect the Vulcan way and keep it down. At least _most_ of the humans. His eyes found Jim, who was grinning and sharing a hip flask of what was no doubt Scotch with Scotty. Trust Jim to find the alcohol at a Vulcan party. However, to his credit, he and Scotty were doing an excellent job of being discreet and Jim was playing his part well, hobnobbing like a pro, and only taking a nip when he was sure he and Scotty were alone.

McCoy's eyes moved away from Jim, roving around the room curiously. There were several other ship's crews here, as well as many members of Starfleet high command. Ambassador Spock was currently having an amicable conversation with Admiral Pike, and Sulu and Chekov were making very serious attempts to chat up a pair of very stiff looking Vulcan women. McCoy smirked as he watched the poor kids get rejected. Waste of time…in most cases.

Then he saw her.

She was standing just a little ways from him, towards the center of the room, alone. Her body was slight and thin, her small shoulders slightly hunched as though she was bearing the weight of the world. Her curly blonde hair, just tinged with gray, flowed around her shoulders, spilling long and low down her back. But her icy hazel eyes, large in the set of her thin, fine boned face, were unmistakable. He had seen her picture so many times, in old records of the _U.S.S. Kelvin_. She was Winona Kirk.

Age was becoming on her, McCoy thought, as he watched her move around the room. The little lines around her mouth were barely noticeable, the grey was seeping into the blonde hair in an easy attractive manner. Her eyes really struck McCoy, though, as she caught his gaze for just a moment.

She looked surprised as their eyes met, as though she wasn't used to being scrutinized, but the surprise quickly left, and the hazel eyes hardened. Suddenly she was closed, icy, and he tore his gaze away, glancing at Jim.

His Captain, his best friend, was currently frozen, absolutely still, his blue eyes wide with shock as they fixed steadily on his mother.

"Doctor."

The low voice at his shoulder startled him. "What…Spock! Damnit, don't sneak up on my like that. What do you want?"

"You seem preoccupied, Dr. McCoy. I merely came to inquire as to why."

McCoy rolled his eyes. Wasn't curiosity an emotion? "See that woman, straight ahead?"

"Yes."

"Jim's mom."

He watched Spock, looking for the reaction. Though no surprise was visible on Spock's impassive face, he saw the lean body stiffen just a little, and the small muscles around they eyes tighten briefly as something flashed in the deep brown eyes. McCoy grinned, taking another sip of his drink, feeling extremely pleased with himself that he had learned to read the hobgoblin so well.

Spock's gaze left the woman and roved over to Jim, who was still rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on his mother. "Does the Captain ever speak of her?"

"I never heard a word, Spock. And I've been with him near constantly for over four years."

"Then it is logical to assume that their relationship is not…amicable."

"Spock, you can't tell…" But McCoy stopped. Jim had suddenly propelled himself into movement and was now standing in front of his mother, speaking urgently.

Something about her icy gaze as she stared at Jim suddenly had McCoy moving, Spock beside him in perfect stride. The need to protect their Captain was strong, and they had reached his side in an instant.

"Mom…"Jim was saying, his voice low as he reached out a hand.

She shied away from his touch, the rejection clear as the icy mask slid into place again to cover the fleeting pain in her eyes. "Goodbye, James." she said, her voice cold and flat, as she turned on her heel and left the auditorium.

McCoy and Spock moved in unison, Spock quickly moving to stand in front of his Captain, to disguise the moment and protect him from curious eyes as McCoy grasped his shoulder. "You ok, Jim?"

The bleak look nearly stopped McCoy's heart. Jim standing there, with his hand outstretched, looking like he had just lost…everything. It was just like Spock on the transporter pad, not so long ago.

"Jim…" he breathed.

Suddenly, the Captain's mask slid back into place, as Jim turned on a brilliant smile for Admiral Pike, who was beckoning him to come over and have a drink. Jim strode over, shaking himself free of McCoy's grasp.

McCoy glanced at Spock, who raised an eyebrow. McCoy shook his head. "This isn't over."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Spock walked the corridors of the _Enterprise_, his pace quick and brisk as he searched for his Captain.

The _Enterprise _was oddly lifeless, as most of the crew were still enjoying the closing festivities of the Harvest Banquet on Vulcan II. The Captain, however, had seemingly disappeared at the first opportunity, fleeing as soon as the banquet seemed to be coming to a close.

He keyed in to the Captain's quarters, using his command override to get inside. The quarters were empty; the only evidence of recent occupation was the open closet and a rumpled Starfleet uniform laying on the bed. Spock left the quarters and returned to corridor.

He was not worried for his Captain; worry was an illogical emotion that was completely unwarranted for this situation. He merely wanted to ascertain the Captain's whereabouts and make sure they were ready for their impending departure.

Still, he was having difficulty ignoring that odd sensation in the pit of his stomach, the rolling and clenching. His pace quickened as he reached the turbolift, and punched the button for the observation deck.

The observation deck was dark and quiet, and the stars rolling slowly past as the ship orbited Vulcan II. The Captain was there, huddled under the rail with his knees drawn up to his chest and face pressed against the clear glass. Humans had odd physical manifestations of their emotions.

Spock stepped forward slowly, alerting Jim to his presence with a light touch of his hand. His sensitive nerves picked up the emotions washing off the Captain in waves: _rejection, humiliation, anger, sadness, loneliness_. The Captain looked up, the emotion Spock felt through the touch of his hand swirling in the clear blue eyes.

Spock wondered for a moment what to do. He did not wish to make his Captain uncomfortable, but he had this odd need to _be there_, to _stay_. Deciding it was his duty as First Officer to ensure the health of his Captain both physically and emotionally, he sat carefully down next to the Captain. After all humans did take an odd comfort in mere physical proximity. Spock would stay with the Captain for now, and later let the Doctor doll out his favorite prescription of conversation and alcohol.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey all! Here's chapter 11! Thanks for all the reviews and KEEP IT UP! I think you all will enjoy this one.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters: **Jim (POV), Bones (POV), Spock, Uhura (cameo), Nurse Whiting (my OC, cameo)

**Genre**: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort

**Summary**: Yes, all appeared normal, calm, but something in Kirk's gut was clenching. Something wasn't right.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Ok_, Captain James Kirk thought, a small smile on his face as he stood in front of the Allerian High Council. _Finally a diplomatic mission gone right_.

At least, things appeared to be going right. He was standing next to Spock, and Roylan, the leader of the High Council, was amicably explaining his openness to joining the Federation. The other council members were nodding and smiling in their turn.

Yes, all appeared normal, calm, but something in Kirk's gut was clenching. Something wasn't right. Immediately upon beaming down to Alleris, a small planet populated by tall, grey skinned, humanoids who had just recently achieved space flight, Jim and Spock had been separated. Jim hadn't missed the distrustful looks the welcoming delegation had given Spock. Roylan had stepped forward, and had calmly explained, "Our guests will be separated for explanations and debriefing."

The next two hours had been difficult for Jim. Though the Allerians had been kind, respectful, and informative, Jim felt like he was missing his right hand. Without Spock's cool, calm demeanor, Jim had felt jumpy and distracted, and it had taken all his focus to keep it together under the scrutiny of the potential new Federation members. However, he had kept it together. His orders were to do whatever was asked of him, whatever was necessary to please the Allerians. Their planet had valuable resources, and the Federation had been preparing for this for many years, waiting for the Allerians to achieve spaceflight before making contact. This mission was essential, Starfleet command had made that clear. There was no room for error.

As the Allerian Ambassador continued to drone, Jim sneaked a quick look at Spock. His Vulcan first officer had not said a word since they had been brought back together in the council room, merely giving him a stiff nod and then moving to stand on Jim's right, hands folded behind his back, calm and stoic as ever. Now, as Jim took a closer look at him he noticed an odd…tension in his First Officer's shoulder, as stiff set that was unlike his normal displays of relaxed, cat-like grace.

Jim's gut clenched as he forced his gaze back to Roylan. Something was wrong. They needed to get back to ship.

Finally, _finally,_ Roylan stood, moving down from the Council table. "Now, if you will come with me." He said with a smile, his arms spread wide, "I will escort you to the courtyard, where you will be returned to your ship."

Jim nodded, reaching forward to shake Roylan's hand. "Thank you, Roylan. The Federation will be pleased to hear of our successful negotiations."

They were escorted out to the Government courtyard, and before Jim could blink the transporter pad was materializing in front of him. He turned to Spock, something in his gut forcing him to his First Officer's side. He reached out, just in time to catch the Vulcan as he collapsed.

Jim grunted at the sudden heavy weight on his chest as he gently lowered the Vulcan to the ground. He could feel something sticky seeping through the back of Spock's shirt. _Shit_.

"Scotty, get Bones up here now!" he barked. Scotty's frantic voice as he called medical faded into the background as his gaze fell on the Vulcan' in his lap.

"Spock…" he breathed, startled at the grayish tinge to the Vulcan's skin. "What did they do to you."

"The Doctor's presence is uneccessary, Captain. I am merely resting."

"Spock…" Jim shook his head, passing over the lecture. He would leave that to Bones. "Why didn't you say anything."

"My silence was necessary to the success of the mission." Spock said, a slight hitch catching his voice. His breathing suddenly became more labored as his eyes began to flutter, and Jim felt his heart clench.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"_Transporter Room to Sickbay! I need a medical team to the Transporter Pad…like now!" _

Scotty's voice over the communicator had Bones' attention in a second. He slapped his hand on the communicator. "On my way, Scotty." he growled as he sprang from his chair in his office and started pulling supplies off the shelf. God only knows what Jim had done to himself this time.

He bolted out of sickbay, Nurse Chapel trotting briskly at his heels, two orderlies pushing a gurney bringing up the rear. People cleared the halls in front of him, springing out of his way easily and continuing about their business. This kind of shit happened _way _to often on this damned ship.

He was completely blindsided when he saw _Spock_ lying on Jim's lap, bleeding bright green all over the transporter pad. Pushing past his surprise, he met Jim's frightened gaze with what he hoped was a reassuring nod as he knelt next to the pair. He carefully roved his tricorder over the Vulcan's body. Internal bleeding, broken ribs, respiratory distress, multiple lacerations covering his back. He frowned at the instrumentation.

"Nurse Chapel, alert medical bay to prep OR 1." He barked as he motioned the orderlies over. They carefully transferred the Vulcan to a gurney. "God damnit, Spock, what the hell happened?"

Spock's head lolled to one side, his weary gaze finding McCoy's face. "They did not appreciate…my alien appearance…my pointed ears…" he breathed. "They deemed…torture…was necessary to obtain…my cooperation."

McCoy glanced at Jim, who had paled at this revelation, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the gurney tightened. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?" Bones breathed, obviously speaking the thought Jim was now torturing himself with.

"This success of…the mission…was essential." The Vulcan panted as they rushed him down the hall to medical bay. "There is plant life on…Allaris…that we have never heard of…medical discoveries….could be…beneficial to your…science, Doctor."

McCoy shook his head as they pushed through the medbay doors. "All the potential medical discoveries in the world aren't going to do me any good right now, when I have to use my _current_ medical knowledge to save your green blooded ass."

He could've sworn he saw Spock smirk, but the look was so fleeting, he knew he couldn't be sure. The medical bay buzzed with activity around him, as the nurses began prepping Spock for surgery, and he pulled off his blue commander's shirt, exchanging it for a scrub shirt. He made his way over to the sink, carefully scrubbing up to his elbows with the antibacterial foam.

He glanced around as he scrubbed the foam dry into his skin. Jim was standing there, staring at the OR, where Spock was laying, shirtless and unconscious on a gurney, waiting to be operated on. Jim was pale, and tense, fists clenched at his sides.

Suddenly his blue eyes focused on McCoy. "He _has_ to be okay, Bones." Jim breathed, a shudder running through his lean body.

McCoy nodded, not trusting his voice and turned briskly into the OR. Nurse Chapel snapped on his gloves and tied on his mask, and he moved over to Spock, staring down at the unconscious Vulcan.

He took a deep breath. Jim was right, he had to save Spock. The Vulcan had to be okay, because Jim needed him. Damnit, the Vulcan had to be okay because Bones needed him too.

He picked up the scalpel. His heart was pounding, but as always, his hands were steady.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Four hours_. It had been four whole hours since Bones had stepped into the OR. One of the nurses had finally chased him out of sickbay, claiming his excessive pacing was disturbing the patients. He had taken his pacing to the hall, where Uhura had joined him, flying up to him with tears in her eyes less than an hour after Spock had gone under. He had said nothing, not trusting his own voice, merely gripping her hand briefly and continuing to pace. She had chosen a spot on the wall facing the Sickbay doors, and had been sitting there, knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the door since.

Jim continued to pace, his stomach doing nervous flips as he stared at the Sickbay doors, willing them to open, willing Bones to come out and tell him it was all ok. It had been far too long already.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Bones stepped out of the OR, pulling off his cap wearily. Nurse Whiting strode up, a small crease between her brows as she motioned to the door. "They're waiting for you. Lieutenant Uhura and Captain Kirk."

He nodded, steeling himself. Time to deliver the news.

He stepped out of the sickbay doors. Jim whirled, his blue eyes focusing steadily on McCoy, the question springing from them. He tore his gaze from Jim and moved forward to Nyota, crouching in front of her. He reached out, grasping her hands in both of his own. "He going to be ok." He murmured, gazing steadily into her deep brown eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief, her tear filled eyes rolling to the ceiling in silent thanks. McCoy smiled as he helped her to her feet. She paused only to kiss him on the cheek before stepping into sickbay, determined to see the Vulcan she loved.

McCoy turned to Jim. They stood, alone, facing eachother in the empty hallway. Jim wavered, then collapsed against the wall, sliding down to sit, his head in his hands. McCoy heard a muffled sob. He moved forward toward his best friend, throwing his arm around Jim. "He's ok Jim." McCoy murmured gently, his hand rubbing the Captain's arm. "He'll be ok."


	12. Chapter 12

Next installment! WOOT!

0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: L. McCoy (POV), Spock

**Genre**: Humor/Friendship

**Summary**: "Really Spock? Really? I thought you were clever, but no. You get your logic from earth novels that are centuries old!" McCoy said, a triumphant grin stretching across his face as he slapped his hand on the table. He could _taste_ his victory. Just a McCoy and Spock banter moment.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Leanord McCoy sighed gratefully as he entered his quarters. _Finally_, he thought happily as he pulled off his boots, _some time to relax. _

Spock had been released from sickbay two days ago, alive and well after his disaster on Alleris. Other sickbay patients weren't critical, and on the run to the next diplomatic mission nothing really needed to be done. McCoy had signed himself out of his shift early, and had made his way back to his quarters for some well deserved relaxation. Or at least, he thought with a wry smile, a little break before the next diplomatic disaster.

He pulled out his PADD and stretched out on his bed, moving his stylus over the screen until he found a book that looked promising. _The Many Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He settled into his pillows happily, a soft sigh escaping from his lips and he tapped his stylus to open the file.

He loved books, loved the feeling of losing himself in someone else's story. Books were his escape, his stress relief. He couldn't remember how many novels he had been through in medical school, during his painful divorce, and at the Academy.

He had been reading quietly for nearly two hours, enjoying the lengthy, undisturbed silence, when one particular line caught his attention.

"_It is my constant maxim, that when you eliminate all impossibilities, whatever is left, however improbablr, must be the truth." _

McCoy frowned, sitting up a little in bed, he was sure he had heard that before…somewhere…

Suddenly the memory rushed back to him. He had been standing on the bridge, mere hours after Vulcan had…disappeared. Jim and Spock had been pacing around, a heated argument between them about their course of action charging the bridge. Everybody had been sick with grief, frightened, on edge, and McCoy had spoken aloud what they had all been thinking.

"_How the hell did they do that by the way? Where did the Romulans get _that_ kind of weaponry?" _

_Spock had remained staring out the window, his face hidden from McCoy, but his voice intoning none of the grief he _had_ been feeling as he explained, "The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole may suggest an answer." _

_Then he had turned, his face the stoic mask of perfect logic, the grief in his eyes unreadable to McCoy at the time. "Such technology could be theoretically manipulated to create a tunnel through spacetime." _

_McCoy had exploded, his frustration getting the better of him as he raised his voice, "Damnit man, I'm a doctor, not a physicist! Are actually suggesting they're from the future?" _

_Spock had merely raised an eyebrow as he intoned, "If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." _

"_How poetic.."McCoy had scoffed._

McCoy set down his PADD and jumped out of bed. That unoriginal hobgoblin…

He tracked the Vulcan down in the Science Lab on Deck 7, running an experiment with something electrical that McCoy didn't dare even ask about. He approached quietly, pulling up a stool to the lab table and sitting down, his eyes on Spock and smug smile on his face. He was _so _getting the hobgoblin this time.

"Doctor?" The Vulcan intoned quietly, his eyes on his work as he carefully cut and wove wires together.

"Like _Sherlock Holmes_, Spock?" McCoy said, leaning forward a little, his mind totally on the chase.

Spock paused and looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Doctor, I fail to see the reasoning behind this question."

"You know, Spock, I read a little something today, in _The Many Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. Holmes told Watson, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

"A very logical statement, Doctor."

"Really Spock? Really? I thought you were clever, but no. You get your logic from earth novels that are centuries old!" McCoy said, a triumphant grin stretching across his face as he slapped his hand on the table. He could _taste_ his victory

Spock turned his gaze back to his…work…but McCoy could have sworn he saw the Vulcan roll his eyes. Maybe.

"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote with uncanny wisdom for a human in such an archaic time in Earth's history. Sherlock Holmes is perhaps the only human character I have ever heard of that I could possibly identify with."

"Identify with? Spock really…"

"Yes Doctor, he was a human who was capable of solving his problems with the use of pure logic, without giving over to emotions as humans tend to do."

"Spock…"

"And frankly Doctor, I am surprised that a man so emotional as you should take interest in such a high-minded author as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I would have thought your reading experience would have tended towards Jane Austen."

McCoy frowned. He could feel his victory slipping away. Again.

"As a matter of fact, I _enjoyed Pride and Prejudice._"

Spock raised an eyebrow, his eyes not leaving his work. "Precisely, Doctor."

McCoy growled as he stalked out of the room. Someday, he _would _get the last word.


	13. Chapter 13

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the hits and reviews as usual. We have a few more chapters to go, before I launch into another series of oneshots titled The Best Days. Enjoy!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

**Characters:** Uhura (POV), Kirk, Spock, McCoy

**Genre**: Friendship/General

**Summary: "**Lieutenant! What are you doing here, girl? Don't you have duty?" McCoy said, steadying her with his strong hands as his sharp eyes roved over her in search of any obvious injuries.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Alpha shift was just about to begin on the bridge of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, and Uhura didn't want to be there. She was exhausted, this latest diplomatic run, with all the joyous communications and linguistics responsibilities, was becoming overwhelming. She had begun taking more work than usual off duty with her, leaving her no time to relax or even just be _off duty_ for a little while, and had been steadily losing sleep. She had managed a grand total of three hours last night, preparing for a treaty negotiation between two small planets in the Rigellus star system that had been at war for nearly thirty years.

The lack of sleep and corresponding overwork had left her grumpy and waspish, even with Spock. He had come to seek her out, encouraging her to leave her work and 'take some sustenance' and she had promptly snapped at him, informing him that she had already eaten, and she would truly appreciate it if Spock would leave her _alone_.

She felt a slight twinge of guilt as she glanced at the Science station next to her, where Spock was silently tapping away at his screen, reading up on cultures for the planets they were going to be starting negotiations with, no doubt. But the guilt was quickly replaced with a hot anger and she couldn't quell and with a huff she turned back to her station, pinning her communicator on her ear and opening her channels just as Captain Kirk stepped on to the bridge.

She spent the better part of the morning relaying message after message from Starfleet command, steadily ignoring Spock, and valiantly attempting to control her temper.

She glanced at the clock. Almost 14:00 hours. Only three more hours to go.

Kirk swiveled in his chair. "Lieutenant Uhura. Will you double check and make sure that Starfleet command has not provided any revised orders for our mission?"

That was it. She couldn't take it anymore. She felt the muscles in her body tense. "Captain," she ground out between clenched teeth, "I have checked and double checked out orders completely, and confirmed them with Starfleet _three times_. If you think that I am unfit or unable to do my job properly, please find a replacement for me and drop me off at the next starbase!"

She paused, sucking in a deep breath, her eyes still locked on Captain Kirk. His eyes held an emotion akin to…astonishment. He had obviously not expected that reaction. The bridge she noted had fallen completely silent, and she saw looks of mild shock and confusion on the faces of the rest of the bridge crew. Chekov was staring at her with a sympathetic concern. Her gaze shifted to Spock. His expression was as calm as ever, but his eyes shone with worry.

That was it. She had to get off the bridge.

She stood up slowly, her stomach tightening with shame. "Captain Kirk," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "I have a headache. May I be excused from bridge duty to go to medical?"

Kirk's eyes softened with understanding, and he nodded slowly. "You are excused, Lieutenant."

Uhura turned on her heel, stepping off the bridge quickly and instructing the turbolift to Deck 8. She had not been lying when she had said that she was going to medical. She hoped McCoy would have some stimulants, or something,_ something_ to help out.

The sickbay doors hissed open, and Uhura ran, literally, smack dab into Dr. McCoy.

"Lieutenant! What are you doing here, girl? Don't you have duty?" McCoy said, steadying her with his strong hands as his sharp eyes roved over her in search of any obvious injuries.

"I asked to be excused to come see you, Doctor. I'm just a little tired and I thought…" she started, but before she could finish, McCoy had dragged her over to a sickbay bed, sat her down and was running a tricorder over her.

He frowned at the instrument, and for a moment Uhura worried that something was really wrong with her. After a moment he looked up, his hazel eyes flashing. "How much have you been sleeping lately?"

"I have been getting enough sleep…"

"Nyota!"The doctor snapped, his eyes locked on hers.

She sighed, knowing she would have to be honest. McCoy missed nothing. Ever. "I am averaging maybe two to three hours a night."

McCoy nodded. "And eating?"

"When I have time. This diplomatic run is keeping me busy, and these upcoming negotiations are important." She said, a little more fire coming into her voice as she willed McCoy to understand.

The doctor's eyes tightened a little in the corners as his expression moved from frustration to understanding.

"Nyota, you are good at what you do. You are the best at what you do. But you need to be on top of your game."

"Thank you doctor." Nyota said, feeling her cheek's warm at the praise.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking you off duty for the rest of today and tomorrow."

She stiffened. "What? Why? I have so much to do for these negotiations. I have to…"

McCoy stopped her, squeezing her shoulder with a firm hand. "You need to be on top of your game, which means _healthy_ and well rested. We won't reach the Rigellus system for two days. "

"But.."

"Nyota, shut up. Now I'm ordering you to return to your quarters and relax. No reading or preparing. Nothing."

Uhura rolled her eyes as she stepped off the table and made her way towards the sickbay doors. She had just stepped out into the hall when McCoy's voice called to her.

"Just so you know, Uhura, I have informed Spock of my orders and asked him to see to it that you rest, and relax." McCoy called, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone.

She strode angrily back to her quarters, and sure enough, there was Spock, off duty early and waiting patiently with a tray of food, and something like concern and amusement fighting in his deep brown eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

Hello all! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews and keep them coming. I learn so much from you all, and they make me want to keep writing! This next chapter requires a little bit of explanation. It's another oneshot on the diplomatic run, but it originated a little differently from my other stories. I was in need of some inspiration and began searching for prompts of livejournal (for the first time, but really I enjoyed the site and have been exploring it more thoroughly lately). I found this prompt unclaimed in a Tarsus fic community and inspiration hit: The remains of James T. Kirk were found next to those of Governor Kodos... or so they thought. It was unclaimed (which is why I decided to write on it), and I'm entering no contests, I was just searching for a little...oomph! Anyway, hope you enjoy.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o

**Characters**: McCoy (POV), Spock (POV), Kirk (POV)

**Genre**: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort

**Summary**: Inspired by the prompt: The remains of James T. Kirk were found next to those of Governor Kodos. Or, so they thought.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

McCoy frowned over at the couch in the Rec Room on Deck Six. Jim was passed out there, tired after a long week of negotiations between two warring planets. He had managed to drag his nearly falling over Captain back to the ship when a cease fire had finally been reached and things seemed to be on the verge of settling down at last. He had grabbed his guitar, and had forced Jim and Spock into the rec room, locking it fast so they couldn't get out. "We are going to _rest_." he had growled at his overly stubborn commanding officers, and they had acquiesced, Spock retrieving a PADD to do some 'light' reading, and Kirk settling down with some brandy, talking to McCoy while McCoy played idly at his guitar.

Jim stirred fitfully, his hands twitching feebly in his dream, and McCoy immediately resumed playing, coaxing gentle melodies out of his Sally. He glanced over at Spock, who had looked up from his reading to stare at Jim, concern sifting deep in the passive expression. McCoy began to hum along with the guitar and smiled, satisfied as Jim's breathing seemed to even and the unconscious man seemed to relax a little bit.

"Surprisingly effective, Doctor." Spock spoke quietly. McCoy rolled his eyes and continued his playing, sinking deep into the melody.

A whimper from the couch startled McCoy a few minutes later, and he glanced up from the guitar, immediately refocused. Jim was moaning, turning his head back and forth as his body tightened, his legs curling into the thin chest.

"No…" he moaned, sounding frighteningly small and pathetic. "No…I'm not…No…"

McCoy put down the guitar and stepped quickly to his friend's side, Spock just behind him. He pushed the unruly hair off the young Captain's forehead, carding his fingers through it soothingly. "It's ok, Jim." he murmured gently, trying to sooth his friend out of the nightmare.

Jim began thrashing, nearly knocking McCoy off the couch, and suddenly McCoy was truly frightened. He had never seen Jim like this. In all their years at the academy Jim had never…

His thoughts screeched to a halt as he tried to hold his friend down. He suddenly remembered the Stardate, and knew…it was _that _time of year. The time of year where Jim was always off duty, and drunk, or requesting sleeping pills from McCoy. He had never given a reason, and the dark look McCoy had received when he had asked had put him off questioning his friend any further.

He shook Jim, the cries from his friend tearing at his heart. "Wake up, damnit, Jim! Wake up!" he shouted.

Jim's back arched as a painful scream tore from his throat. "Doctor!" Spock shouted from behind him.

McCoy didn't bother to turn. "Damnit Spock…help me here or go get me Nurse Chapel and…"

"Doctor, move!" Spock said, urgently, and McCoy moved, sliding back a little as Spock moved to stand by Jim's head. The long fingered Vulcan hand reached down, pressing into Jim's face carefully around the right eye.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Blackness. Darkness. The smell of smoke hung in the heavy air that seemed to press down on him and choke his lungs. _

_Spock fought to keep a grip on himself. He knew he was experiencing Jim's nightmare. _

_He struggled to breathe, but the air was so thick, so heavy, he wasn't getting enough, his entire body ached, from a dull ache in his stomach to a flaring pain in his head and in his ribs. He struggled to move…he had to get out, but he could not. _

_He heard the sound of a door banging open and the running footsteps of several pairs of feet. _

"_God…" a voice said, somewhere above him. _

"_Search the mansion. Find Kodos." _

"_Sir? I think this his him." _

"_Are you sure?" _

"_He has the clothes, and the patch on his shirt." _

_There was a shuffling sound, and Spock could feel the presences of several someones around him. He struggled to inhale again, fighting to let them know he was there, he was _alive_, he could hear them. _

_Someone touched him. It was a gentle touch, the hand resting lightly on his neck, feeling for a pulse. _

"_Damn." _

"_He's dead?" _

"_Yeah." A hand ghosted over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face. "So young." _

"_Put him with the others." _

_They thought he was dead. Oh god. Sheer panic overtook him as he struggled to move again, to shout, or something. I'm not dead! I AM NOT DEAD! _

_Spock's thoughts swirled and he struggled to find Jim in all of this, to latch on to his conciousness and pull him out of the dream. _

"_Captain!" he shouted, struggling away from the nightmare, from the sheer panic. _

_The emotion suddenly faded into the background, as Jim's voice, tentative, called. "Spock?" _

"_I am here, Captain. You were experiencing a night terror. The Doctor and I were unable to rouse you by conventional means." _

"_You…you...a mind meld?" _

"_Forgive me, Captain. I felt the action was necessary. The physical manifestations of your dream were most disturbing." _

_Spock felt a slow calm, tinged with shame flood him. _

"_Perhaps we should return to conciousness, Captain? Dr. McCoy will become most displeased with us." _

_He felt Jim's agreement, and together they returned to the conscious world. _

_0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

Jim woke blearily, to McCoy's worried face staring down at him as Spock's hand retracted quickly form his line of sight. He blinked and moaned.

"Jim?" Bones asked, the worry darkening his hazel eyes.

"I'm ok, Bones." He rasped, surprised at how raw his throat felt. He must have been screaming. He pushed himself up slowly, and gratefully accepted a cup of water from Bones, trying to breathe easily. _In and out, In and out. _

"What was that Jim?" Bones asked as Jim met the doctor's worried gaze again. He was silent for a moment, considering. He had never told Bones about Tarsus, he had managed to avoid these little displays. Normally this time of year, the days that marked the worst of his experiences, he managed to drink or drug himself into a dreamless sleep, and before he had managed to avoid the good doctor's questions. In all the craziness of negotiations he had forgotten. Trust his fucked up psyche to catch up with him this time.

"Captain? I too, am curious as to the meaning of your dream." Spock spoke, cool and calm as ever from his seat to Jim's right,.

Jim sucked in a deep breath and met Bones' eyes again. "You have heard of Tarsus IV?"

"Yes." Bones said, tersely, and Jim could tell from the look in his friend's eye that he was jumping to the inevitable conclusion before Jim explained.

"I was there." He said, softly. His gaze roved to Spock, and the pain in the Vulcan's dark eyes shook him a little. He tore his gaze away, back to Bones. There was pain in his eyes also, but Jim could see the Doctor's mask sliding on, the impassivity and gentle patience that helped him keep going. "They found me in the Governor's mansion, next to his remains. They thought I was dead too, until a Nurse examined me carefully enough to discover otherwise." He stopped, shuddering, staring at his lap. He couldn't go on.

"Jim." He heard Bones say, a gruff tinge to his voice. The Doctor was gone, his best friend was back. "Let's get you back to your quarters. One of my little red pills should help you rest tonight."

Jim nodded, and allowed himself to be helped up by Bones. He was handed over to Spock, and though he hated having to be half-carried and helped along, he knew he couldn't have done it alone. Spock was his crutch as Bones walked next to him, his guitar case grasped firmly in hand.

Later, he would barely remember being laid down gently in his bed, tucked in by his Vulcan First Officer (really? Spock?), after swallowing a red pill, as the gentle melodies of an acoustic guitar accompanied by Bones' soft voice sang him to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Hey everyone! Thanks for sticking with me on this one. This is the FINAL CHAPTER of this story, but I will move quickly into a multi-oneshot fluffy shoreleave series called The Best Days, that immediately follows this one. Thanks for reading folks. Enjoy!

0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Characters**: Kirk (POV)

**Genre**: Humor

**Summary: **So, charged with a new mission by his best friend and ship's doctor, he sat in front of his computer in his headquarters, staring at the blank message screen in front of him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

James T. Kirk was at the end of his rope.

They had been in the Rigellus Star System for three months now, negotiating an interplanetary peace treaty between Rigellus III and Rigellus IV. The mission had looked to be a breeze at the start- they had managed to negotiate a cease fire within the first week they had been there. Unfortunately the nightmare had only begun.

From there on in it had been three awful months of treaty negotiating, with one planet making ridiculous demands that displeased the other planet, sending the tense cease-fire teetering precariously on the edge, and requiring Jim's near constant presence.

That particular day, he had managed to talk down the Head of State of Rigellus IV, from demanding that they be the only planet to receive imports of coffee from Earth. Jim had tried to follow Uhura's lead and take the calm diplomatic route, but after four hours of the alien being absolutely pig-headed over _coffee_, when they could easily grow and harvest it on their own damned planet, he had snapped, informing the alien that there were more important things to worry about in treaty negotiations than coffee.

On top of that, he was dealing with a bored and stir-crazy crew. Bones had cornered him when he had come back that day, and had let off a frustrated rant about the "stupid, reckless idiots that crew this hunk of metal." Apparently, Scotty had nearly lost his eye that day from chemical burns when he was tweaking the warp engines in his boredom, and Bones had repaired a broken nose and broken jaw on two security ensigns who had gotten in a fist fight.

"Jim, something has to be done. These men need rest, or they really will lose their minds." Bones had said gruffly.

So, charged with a new mission by his best friend and ship's doctor, he sat in front of his computer in his headquarters, staring at the blank message screen in front of him.

He frowned. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Starfleet command to shove these negotiations where the sun don't shine, and let them have some time to _rest_.

However, he knew Starfleet command probably wouldn't appreciate his tone. _Starfleet Command,_ he typed. He stared at the screen for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a frustrated moan, scrubbing a hand across his face. He needed Spock. Spock was always better at this, better at being nice about what he wanted. But Spock was busy. He sat up. _Man up, Jim. You are the Captain of this ship. _

Fifteen minutes later he leaned back, pleased with his work. He had been concise, and to the point, and had managed to make his request without throwing in any curse words or insults. He sent the message and left the room with a new spring in his step, proud of his own self control.

Two days later, the message that came in from Starfleet made his self control _totally _worth it.

Request granted. Orders Pending, by tomorrow 0:900 hours.

-THE END-


End file.
